


Smooth Down (As You Go)

by Live



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hair Braiding, M/M, They're Gone In A Flash, only a little though, self-deprecating thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 17:23:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13529034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Live/pseuds/Live
Summary: Cloud plaits his hair.





	Smooth Down (As You Go)

It started, if anyone asked Cloud, when he was a child. There were three people at that young age that he idolised: his mother, Sephiroth and Tifa. Logically he knew what it was about each of them that he idolised (her love, his strength, her confidence) but that didn’t stop his childlike wonder from imitating their looks. And they all shared one physical attribute: long hair.

Before his hair had been forcefully cut (it was against Shinra’s infantry regulations) he had adored his long hair. He fondly remembers the time his mother’s fingers would gently run through his locks. How she’d pay his hair compliments (tell him there was no way he wouldn’t find love with such a handsome mane). But, more importantly how she taught him to maintain his hair.

“There’s nothing you can do about the fringe,” she had laughed, her hand ruffling the ever present spikes. “That’s genetics I’m afraid.” Her own cow-licked fringe standing in testimony. “But, the rest,” she smiles. “Now that we can work magic with.”

And they had. It started simple, how to work his hair into a neat ponytail. It had been a mess at first, odd strands of hair being missed or getting caught in the hairband. His hair leaning more towards the left than the right. But his mother, with her eternal patience, just kept encouraging him and helping him and eventually he could manage a pretty even and neat ponytail.

Then came the plaits. He’d caught his mother dividing her hair into three neat sections before twisting them together into an intricate pattern. He had wanted that. His mother was only too happy to oblige. 

The following weeks left his arms tingling with pins and needles for being held in the air for so long, but by the end of it. He had an arsenal of hair styles he could pull off and a treasure trove of memories of his mother to cherish. Not to mention a useful coping mechanism.

And he had needed something to get him through the first month of leaving the village (needed something long after that first month). But, before it had been cut off, Cloud was an anxious, socially awkward, motion sick individual that had needed some comfort from home. His hair, at the time, had provided him that. Slipping back into the motions his mother had ingrained into him was relaxing, calming. It was the last time he felt at peace for the next 6 years.

The next time that peace would, briefly, come to him was when he least deserved it. Sephiroth messing with his mind, the world in jeopardy, Aerith dead. If there was a time he least deserved it (and he should stop thinking of it like that, Aerith would tell him off again in her sweet doting voice) it was then. But he had found it.

“Cloud,” Red XIII, Nanaki, had come up to him. His head trailing close to the ground, almost dragging his head forward.

“You ok?” Cloud had asked, concerned. He finally had his memories in order, finally had his goal straightened out, and now he could say without fear that he worried for his friends (for the world).

“It’s a little embarrassing,” Nanaki had admitted. “But, would you be able to comb my mane? Aerith has been doing it, but now...”

“Sure,” Cloud agreed instantly. His mind at the time hadn’t remembered those distant memories of his mother, at the time there had been too much going on to even think beyond stopping Sephiroth. But, it was his friend asking and it was something Aerith had done. He couldn’t not carry on her tasks for her.

So he had sat down on the floor and slowly brushed out any of the knots and tangles in his mane. He brushed the red locks until the comb manoeuvred through them like water. He gently released the small plaits that were donned proudly and re-plaited them with ease. He was completely oblivious to the motions of the Highwind around them, immersed in his own motions.

“Thanks Cloud,” Nanaki had said sincerely once there was nothing more to be done. “You’re very good at this.”

“My mother taught me,” Cloud had confessed and that had been it. A moment of respite through a very dangerous time. The last time Cloud had thought he’d ever touch someone’s hair again, the last time he thought he’d be given the privilege.

Marlene had grown her hair out over the next few years (so had Barret), but she’d never thought to ask him, always running to Tifa to have her hair put up. Tifa never put her hair up these days (neither did Vincent for that matter). And whenever Nanaki visited he’s already have his hair primed and proper. Cloud’s skills were to forever remain hidden (to gather dust) and that moment of peaceful tribulation became a dust covered memory. Cloud probably deserved it (he should really stop thinking like that, especially seeing as it wasn’t true: he’d get to experience that peace again).

“It’s impractical,” Quistis had insisted, pointing her half drunken pint at Squall. “It’s just getting in the way.”

“It’s not,” Squall snorted, leaning back in his seat. “If it was, I would have gotten rid of it by now.”

“It does look ridiculous,” Rinoa added. Squall gave her a look that was half disbelief, half incredulous.

“You told me it was a good idea to grow it out.”

“I thought it was good that you were being more open and adventurous. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t look ridiculous,” Rinoa shrugs, before chugging more of her drink down. Squall just takes a sip of his drink, ignoring her comment.

“What are you going on about?” Cloud asks as he finally joins them. He’d been helping Tifa around 7th Heaven before the SeeD members came looking for him and just decided to get a drink while waiting for him to finish.

“Cloud!” Quistis exclaims. “You’re an experienced fighter. Tell Squall growing his hair is leaving him susceptible to certain attacks.”

“Its fine,” Cloud shrugs, taking the seat next to Squall. Tifa catching him sitting down walks over. He smiles. “Tifa’s a more than capable fighter with much longer hair.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she laughs, as she sets a drink, non-alcoholic, down for Cloud. She turns to appraise Squall’s hair, before giving him a wink. “I think it looks nice.”

Before Squall can grant the compliment the thank you it deserves, Quistis it folding her arms across her chest and leaning back in her seat. She has a completely disapproving look across her face.

“But, it’s not the right look for the face of SeeD to have,” she sighs. “It’s too unruly. Completely unprofessional.”

“Just put it up when you want it to look professional,” Cloud shrugs. It had been a long time since he had to worry about looking presentable in any way.

“There’s too many uneven strands,” Rinoa explains, her hand pulling through Squall’s hair in demonstration. As her fingers glide through the silky brown locks, they fall out of her grasp at different times, definitely uneven. Squall just grunts at the manhandling.

“Even up in a ponytail it would just stick out in odd directions,” Quistis agrees.

“Just plait it,” Cloud says. 

“It would still stick out and look messy,” Quistis sighs. 

“Not if it’s tucked in properly. Hey Tifa,” Cloud turns to Tifa who had been standing there listening in amusement. She hmms inquiringly. “You or Marlene have any spare hairbands and bobby pins?”

“Should be some behind the bar,” she hums, her hand resting on her chin in thought. “Do you need a brush as well?”

“Yeah,” Cloud turns back to Squall. The man in question has a brow raised high. “Turn around.”

With a roll of his eyes, he does.

“Since when could you do hair?” Squall asks. He had never seen Cloud put a brush anywhere near his own spikey mess.

“Used to have long hair,” Cloud answers. His fingers run through Squall’s hair. The locks have always been well maintained, a quirk from Squall’s extensive career in SeeD, that hasn’t changed now that his hair is longer. Trailing his hands gently through Squall’s long mane really shows Squall’s tendency for perfection though. The hair had clearly been combed and styled carefully: Squall was always willing to put effort into things he thought was meaningful… Cloud was betting on Squall’s well maintained hair being for SeeD’s continued professional image.

“Here you go,” Tifa calls as she hands over the items he had asked for.

“Thanks,” he smiles and takes the brush (the one with nylon bristles that Tifa uses every morning on her and Marlene’s hair), Tifa places the hairbands and bobby pins on the table beside him, before getting called away to the bar.

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Squall drawls as he feels his hair being tugged around.

“Ye of little faith,” Cloud huffs back; amused.

“Well, it is you after all,” Squall smirks. Not that Cloud can see it, but he’s pretty damn sure it’s there, tugging the left side of those damn-kissable lips into a mocking taunt, that’s unfairly attractive on the brunette.

“What does that say about you?” Cloud shoots back, his hand never straying from the task at hand: the brush rearranging the brown locks into neat lines. “Having someone like me sort out your hair?”

“I was fine with how it was,” Squall snorts, because it’s true. “You’re the ones complaining.”

“You didn’t complain about Cloud plaiting your hair though,” Quistis teases and Squall says nothing, because it’s true.

“Only after you girls wore him down though,” Cloud rolls his eyes and Squall says nothing, because it’s true.

“It’s a suggestion of a purely professional decree,” Quistis defends.

“Really?” Cloud looks at Rinoa.

She laughs.

“I have no professional standing in SeeD, so purely unprofessional on my part,” Rinoa grins. “Just want Squall to look his most handsome.”

“He looks good either way,” Cloud shrugs. 

“You two are too adorable,” Rinoa sighs into the palm of her hand at that, leaning further onto the table between them. 

“How?” Squall asks, because that just sounds ridiculous, what is adorable about two men bitching at each other, while having their hair done?

“Don’t act like you’re not enjoying yourself,” Rinoa chides. “You wouldn’t let anyone else touch your hair.”

“Whatever,” Squall sighs, much to the amusement of the three surrounding him.

As they had been talking Cloud had managed to wrangle the hair into three neat bunches. From the length in hand he imagines it’ll fall just below Squall’s shoulders. He looks to Rinoa.

“Can you choose me a hairband?” He asks. Rinoa’s eyes light up.

“Yes!” She turns to Quistis. “Let’s find something appropriate.”

Quistis grins back.

“Really?” Squall drawls to Cloud, once the girls are distracted with their task. 

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Cloud asks and Squall can’t even waste breath replying to that abysmal question. There were so many ways this could go wrong, knowing Rinoa she’d probably choose the moogle scrunchie, or Quistis would choose something bright coloured to ‘brighten’ his day, even though she was harping about professionalism. No, he wouldn’t waste his breath talking about it, but he’s definitely rolling his eyes at Cloud’s choices.

With all occupants of the table otherwise engaged, sulking or otherwise, Cloud is left to silence. And by silence Cloud meant blissful peace: no thoughts clouding his judgement, no guilt or worry tainting his every motion, all he’s left to is the weaving and waning of the pools of jasper. The up and over, the down and under, the up and over... it’s relaxing in a way Cloud finds difficult to describe. 

It’s almost as though everything is existing in one frozen moment of harmony.

“How about this one?” Rinoa asks. Cloud blinks and looks up at the yellow hairband she holds out. 

He smiles.

“Perfect.”

Tying off the plait isn’t some grand life altering decision, but he finds himself wanting to drag the moment out for a second longer (a century longer). To have his hands be the only thing keeping the strands locked neatly together. To be needed. It’s a moment that lasts no longer than a millisecond, before Cloud has shaken it and gently wraps the yellow around the achingly gorgeous brown. 

Yellow is surprisingly Squall’s colour.

“Do you have some bobby-”

“Here!” Rinoa’s cheerful voice chirps, the pins happily held out for him. He smiles in return.

“Thanks.”

He slides any loose strands into the plait, securing them with the pins. Once he’s meticulously worked his way through every weave there’s not a strand out of place. It looks good, even with Cloud’s lack of practice- almost like he’s been doing this his entire life.

“Oh,” Rinoa says first. “You actually look pretty handsome like that!”

“Begrudgingly, it’s acceptable,” Quistis wallows.

“Looking good,” Tifa compliments when she see it later.

“Put my hair up,” Squall says, thrusting a brush into Cloud’s hands days later.

“Of course,” Cloud smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always had the head canon that Cloud was really good at doing all kinds of hairstyles, but seeing all the good Liverpepper art with Squall's hair braided on Tumblr, I just had to write something with Cloud plaiting his hair!!!! Hope you guys enjoyed <3


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